The Complexity of Geometry
by BurningLionFrozenLamb
Summary: Triangles on paper aren't hard if you know the formula. Triangles in reality are hard whether you have the formula or not. VinTif.
1. Grey

**I don't own anything.**

**To Marcos: O Brother, what I learned from you.**

One: Grey.

From Yuffie.

I watched them silently, ignoring the fire pouring down my cheeks.

Why her? Why him? Why couldn't I have more sense?

He brushes his thumb past her cheek. I feel the feathery touch on my own, dulled by jealousy and transmitted by my own loathing. I don't want to hate her.

But look what's she's done to me. Look at this amazing creature, her long sable hair rippling over her shoulder, her merlot eyes lowered in reverence. As well they should be.

Where am I, anyway? How did I get here? Where did these feelings come from? He's so old. So mature, tender, understanding, compassionate-no, no. Not that.

He can't help being the beautiful soul that he is. He can't help being so tall, so graceful, so eloquent. It's not his fault. But is it hers?

Perhaps it's mine. Mine.

I know I'm not completely in the wrong. I know it.

But I'm not right.

I guess I'm just grey.


	2. Medicine

**I don't own anything.**

**To Tasha: O Sister, how you took from me what I didn't even know I had.**

Two: Medicine.

From Vincent.

She was so beautiful.

From the day I saw her, the day she walked into my life. The light she gave me saved me from the past. The light...

The angel. It took me a long time to see what she wished so desperately to give me. Why--I will never know. I do not see how any congnitive creature, much less this radiant beacon, could possibly want to offer me anything.

She offered me her soul.

It was wrong. _He_ had taken something from her, and she felt to reach out to me. I was... overwhelmed. She deserved better than either of us, but she had chosen the warped, self-hating creature whose sickness would eventually take her, too.

Then I realized: she was medicine. _He_ was sick, too, a long time ago. _He_ needed her as much as I did. But only because she was the constant; the world could stop turning, but as long as she was there, things would work out.

But I needed her more. _He_ was well. _He_ could go his own way safely, no longer dependant on this masterful angel. And that hurt her; I will always hold this against him. She saw his betrayal, his leaving her as a sign of his apathy toward her. She saw his disconcern for her, for her career, for the children. He wounded her badly.

So she turned to me. "Vincent?"

"What is it, Tifa?"

"D-don't let m-me put you away. Don't let me g-give you up like I d-did for him. P-please."

I just _held_ her. "Never."

She will never know how much I owe her. Ever.

Only the sick need medicine.


	3. Used

**I don't own anything.**

**To Patrick: O Brother, for what you never saw me for.**

Three: Used.

From Tifa.

I never really understood why he came to me in the night. This powerful being, a soul more beautiful than I could ever imagine. This incredible creature, this tempest of life beyond life. He will exist for all eternity—for which I pity him—but he works to redeem himself in the eyes of man.

And he thinks he's a _monster_. Sometimes he is not as perceptive as I would like.

But I love him.

He won't admit to it. He won't beleive me. He talks about how unworthy he is, how unpure he is... he's so afraid. So very afraid. He's in a tunnel of darkness in which there is no light. A tunnel of fear and hatred.

The worst part is I can't help him. He's trying so hard to heal himself and he won't accept my help.

Vincent... I wish he would let me in. I need to help--it's my purpose. I understand my existence.

He has an eternity to find out his, but he isn't off to a good start. I won't be here forever... and I worry.

He calls me his light. I want him to let me shine. But he shuts me out, struggling more and more as I work harder and harder to blow away his walls.

He is worthy. He deserves this chance. He should have a choice to live a free life. I want to give this to him...

If only he would _let_ me play Jesus. But no.

No forgiveness in his universe. No mercy, no second chances. No healing.

Scars. Blood. Tears. Shattered soul, dispersed variously in the chambers of his mind. And none of it is his fault.

None.

But there's no one left to take the blame. Everything is empty now. Everything.

It's wrong. I need to fill. I desperately want to heal, forgive, be merciful. I want to shoulder his burden. I want...

And he needs.

If only... _she_ had never been. He would be whole.

But would I know him as the person I know today? He'd be with some beautiful wife, enjoying retirement on an ex-Turk's salary.

Wouldn't he?

Or would he have found some way to suffer? Some way to be trapped, some way to be damaged?

I don't mind used goods.


	4. Violets

**I own nothing.**

**To Evelyn: O Sister, the lessons you give me every day.**

Four: Violets

From Reno.

He's got that "tall-dark-n-handsome" thing goin' for him. Chocolate, as I call her--never out loud, you understand--just eats it up for breakfast. She loves it. They're all over each other when they don't think anyone's paying attention. It's almost funny. Almost.

He'll do something sicky-sweet. She'll respond in almost the exact same manner. It's disgusting. No, really. He's got this "pity me because I have no hand and I have to live forever" act that he puts up all the time. Makes me mad. He's a prick, that's what he is. Self-centered, snobbish, holier-than-thou...

And the twit--hey, nicest word I could think of--never sees the shivering form in the corner. Quiet, that one. Doesn't say a word. Just quivers, mutters. If you've got the stomach for it, you can see her tears. She's got scars, too, Mr. Sunshine. You can't see hers, though. Nothing so beautiful should be in so much pain.

That burns me up. Burns me to the core. I just wanna run in there and tear those two off each other so she can sleep peacefully. I wanna do something to put her at ease...

But I can't. Ruins the clown act, you see. I've been working on that for years, putting extra concious effort so I could say nothing. And it would be funny. I was never one of those in grade school... kids just thought I was off my rocker.

Anyway, you've got the clown act and you do something sensitive, you're screwed. Simple.

I wouldn't sacrifice that for the world. Not something I've put that much effort into. Never.

But maybe that's not what it's about. Maybe it's not about the reputation you earn or the figures you pull. Maybe it's not about how many babes you can nail in one break. Maybe that's not it at all.

Maybe it's about something you _would_ give up the world for.

Like her. Not Chocolate--she's sweet, but she's not my type... and she's taken by a vampire--whom I have no desire to mess with. For one, _he'd _put me full of holes faster than I could say thanks a lot. For another, _she'd_ put me in a coma before I could get to second freakin' base.

No, _her_. She. The one in the corner. The cold, scared, shivering little thing, helplessly powerful in her youth.

The ninja. The one infatuated with Mr. Sunshine. She talks tough, but she needs someone. She's intelligent and sweet and sexy, but she can't go through her days by herself. Sure she's young, but she can't help that. _She needs someone._

And there's no way in hell I'm letting her waste away in the corner.

She's too _precious_. Chocolate's great, but it _melts_. She's like...

Violets. Easily crushed, but with help they spring right back up again.


	5. Hunt

**Nothing but the writing is mine.**

**To Thomas: O Brother, the ordinary miracles you give me unconditionally.**

Five: Hunt

From Yuffie.

I sit in the corner, alone, watching. I hate it here.

Why?

Because there's nothing for me to live for. She's taken him from me. I was so close...

And she just lightly skipped in and crushed me. _Crushed_ me.

Hatred is wrong. The very first--useful--thing my father taught me: if you hate, you are wrong. Period. So no hatred--especially not for an ally.

But it's hard to resist.

I mean, I've got my role in this group. The emotional, eccentric teenager, providing entertainment for everyone with her naive escapades. She's got all those _young_ ideas... romance... purpose... destiny... a greater power than us, something that really _does_ know it all. They all know she likes pretty words like that.

And that's it. A shallow little girl who has yet to grow up. I don't deserve consideration; I don't have _real_ feelings.

Foolishness. The one word they would use to describe me. Vincent is mystery, Cid is honest, Cloud is powerful, Tifa is... something. Something better.

But Yuffie? Aw, she's the brat. Too old to be protected like a kid, too young to be trusted like an adult.

Just a brat.

I don't want this. I don't want to die tommorrow and be remembered as something that didn't have a real place. I just want... _life._

And there's nothing I can do if I'm suffocated out of that chance to live.

I don't know what to do. I don't know where to turn.

Wait.

Of course.

He needs someone to look after. He needs someone to direct. He needs someone to help, and perhaps that someone can help him.

He needs a purpose more than I ever will. He needs _me._

And what closer bond could be devised than that between a student and her teacher?

_Vincent..._

The hunt begins.


	6. Left

**The words are mine. The characters are not.**

**To Brenna: O Sister, for reaching out to me when I was so far away.**

**Six: Left**

**From Cloud.**

She was almost mine.

I can't believe she let me go.

I'm angry... but I know.

She was after him the whole time.

She was leading me on. From the moment she saw him, she was leading me on.

After Aerith... god... after that, Tifa was all I had. She was my rock. I knew I could count on her no matter what happened. She would help me say goodbye. She would help me love again. She...

She was beautiful once. The dark hair, mysterious eyes, sun-kissed skin. She was an angel, a long time ago.

No longer. She took that away from me. She chose... _him._

Maybe... maybe there's a reason. Maybe--

I'm not supposed to have... _anyone._

I... I've done things I'm not proud of. I've killed... and some of those whose lives I have taken did not deserve it. Perhaps...

Perhaps this is my... price. I have a family that loves me, a career, a place to call home...

The only thing missing is the faithful woman at my side.

But... I don't deserve any of it. I shouldn't have any of the treasures I have. Yet here I am taking all of them for granted, wishing for... I have so much.

And I have so little.

I suppose I should be grateful. Not many can say their only regret was having no one to share their lives with.

Being left alone never meant so much.

**That little button down there is love. Thank you.**


End file.
